


I Was Sleepwalking Until I Met You

by perfect_plan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_plan/pseuds/perfect_plan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky can't help but notice the tall blond guy who seems to frequent the 24-hour supermarket that he visits at 3am when his insomnia is at it's worst...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Sleepwalking Until I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Argh, I hit a rut with my other ongoing story (writers block and real-life work deadlines) so finished up this short fic instead.

Bucky groaned and scrubbed his face hard with his hands. His insomnia was the worst it had been for a while; he was running on three hours of sleep across four nights and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. He didn't even bother with sleeping pills any more - his body seemed hell bent on rejecting any kind of medication designed to help him. Herbal remedies were useless, changing his diet and exercise routine had done little to help his sleep patterns and he'd even tried Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, at his wit's end and willing to try anything just to _get some fucking sleep_. The CBT had kind of helped and he went through good patches of sleep, which were anywhere between three to five hours a night and bad patches, which could mean little to no sleep for several nights. This was a bad patch.

It was 3:15am and after having watched several hours worth of terrible infomercials with no sign of his body wanting to shut down and his head pounding (and now also with the overwhelming need to own a juicer), Bucky threw on some jeans, swallowed a couple of Advil dry, attempted to put his sneakers on the right feet and grabbed his wallet and keys.

He often went out in the early hours if he couldn't sleep; it was like being in a different world, wandering through the deserted streets, envying those who could sleep a full eight hours every night. Usually the only people he ever came across at this hour were policemen, watchful of scruffy looking men wandering about at this hour, or students, drunk and noisy, heading home to no doubt sleep most of the next day away. But tonight the streets were eerily empty. Bucky walked along in the middle of the road - he would see a car if it approached - and pretended he was the last man on Earth. Everyone else had been wiped out by a mysterious plague and only he had been immune, destined to spend the rest of his life alone. It wasn't too far from the truth - the spending his life alone part - and he suddenly didn't want to play this game anymore. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and continued to walk.

He was lucky at least that he worked from home; there was always plenty of proofreading and editing to be done and because his brain was a treacherous, confusing piece of _goddamned shit_ , no matter how delirious he was, how close to tears with frustration that he just couldn't even sleep for _one fucking hour_ , his work never suffered. His brain automatically slipped into the zone and he could practically eat his way through three manuscripts in one night. Surely it wasn't much to ask that once he finished, he could just crawl into bed and get some shut-eye, but no; more often than not he would just lie there staring at the wall or ceiling for a few hours before sighing and heaving himself out of bed to do something useful.

He walked a few blocks before he decided to head over to the 24-hour supermarket and pick up a few things. Maybe Clint would be working; he was a student and took a lot of the night shifts so he could study and he and Bucky had struck up a weird kind-of friendship when Clint had finally realised that he was an insomniac and not just some jacked-up weirdo. They would chat for a while before Bucky would leave him to his studying and head back to his apartment to not have any human contact again for an unspecified amount of time.

When he walked into the store, the harsh fluorescent lights not doing his aching head any good, he saw that Clint wasn't in tonight. He was slightly disappointed; it would have been nice to talk and feel halfway like a normal human being, even if it was only for fifteen minutes or so. He grabbed a basket and started to stroll down the aisles with nothing particular in mind to buy. He headed over to the produce section to see if they had any apples. There was a guy stood staring down at the vegetables and Bucky stopped short and blinked, wondering if he had started to hallucinate again from lack of sleep (that had been a terrifying experience he _never_ wanted to go through again) because he was the most _beautiful_ man he had ever seen: He had to be 6'2 at least and he _definitely_ worked out; he had soft blond hair, a jaw line that looked like it could split rocks and the bluest fucking eyes. He looked a little bleary and...well, _out of it_ , kind of like he wasn't sure where he was, which would explain why he was looking down at the zucchinis like he had no idea what they were.

Bucky snapped out of his slack-jawed stare and grabbed a bag of apples before making a hasty retreat to the candy aisle. He had no intention of talking to the guy but he didn't want him to see him in _this_ state; he couldn't remember when he had washed his hair last and it hung limp and greasy to just below his chin. The permanent dark smudges under his eyes were particularly bad tonight and he glanced down at his jeans, tattered at the knees, and his old ratty grey hoodie and winced. Typical that he would stumble across the hottest guy in Brooklyn looking like a goddamned hobo at three in the morning. Bucky peeked around to the produce aisle and the guy was now walking slowly back down towards the newspapers and magazines, away from the cash registers.

Bucky grabbed a few bags of Twizzlers and some chips and hurried to pay for everything before heading out of the store and back home.

***

As it turned out, he slept for _four_ hours that morning when he got back to his apartment and he could have cried with relief. When he woke around 8:30am, he still didn't feel 100% but he felt better, his body as recharged as it was going to get for a little while. He had a shower (and washed his hair), made himself some decaf coffee and a toasted bagel and settled on the couch instead of at his desk with a manuscript. His phone started to blare the ThunderCats theme tune at 9:25am.

"Good morning, Natasha."

"James. How are you?" His boss was the only person who called him James, refusing to believe that a grown man actually _preferred_ being named Bucky.

He sighed. "Not great; had a bad run of insomnia the last few days. Managed to get about four hours this morning."

Natasha was sympathetic to his sleeping disorder but also, he couldn't help but think, kind of grateful for it too; his productivity was almost triple that of any other proofreader at Black Widow Publishing and so good that they had given him a chance to edit too, which he was even better at. "Sorry to hear that. For what it's worth, your last batch of edits were fantastic."

Bucky liked Natasha; she was always quick and to the point. She didn't like wasting talk on idle chit-chat - if a conversation didn't involve the bare essentials of what she wanted to say and hear back in return, it was time wasted in her book.

"Awesome," he replied. "I'm making a start on the new Agents of Hydra book right now. Hopefully I should have the first round of edits to you by tomorrow."

"Unless you can sleep, in which case whenever is good," Natasha said. "I mainly just wanted to check in and see how you were holding up."

Bucky smiled. "I'll be fine, but thanks."

"Good." He could hear the shuffling of papers on her end. "Okay, well you know I'm no good at this casual conversation crap. Your work is good, we're giving you a bonus, I hope you sleep. I'll call you next week."

"Thanks Natasha," he said and she hung up. Bucky chuckled as he flipped open the manuscript. Natasha rubbed a lot of people the wrong way with her attitude but Bucky liked her a lot. He had only met her twice in real life, once at the Black Widow offices when he had first started to work for them to discuss his contract and again at a publishing party they had held, inviting all of the authors. He had been surprised to receive an invite himself; he'd only been proofreading for them at the time but then he'd figured out that it was because Natasha liked him. Not _liked_ him liked him - she knew he didn't swing that way - but liked him because he didn't try and break down her defences like a lot of people. They had ended up hanging out together for the whole party outside in the courtyard, drinking the free wine and sharing cigarettes, barely saying a word between them but enjoying each other's company.

He took a bite of his bagel and started to read.

***

He saw the blond guy again a few days later.

Bucky had slept a total of eight hours over the last couple of days and was starting to feel more like himself. That wouldn't seem like a lot of sleep to most people but to him it was the equivalent of a _week's_ worth of sleep. He had stormed through the latest Agents of Hydra manuscript, one of the publishing house's most popular and successful thriller series, and had proofread seven more ranging from romance to horror. He was just coming to the end of the last one, annoyed as hell that this author had managed to get _your_ and _you're_ confused more times than was acceptable (he didn't think even _once_ was acceptable), and realised that it was 2:30am. His work ethic was another thing that didn't help his insomnia any; he got so in the zone sometimes that he could keep going all night and it screwed with not only his sleep schedule (or lack there-of) but his social life too. Or lack there-of as the case had been for the last few months.

Bucky tried to think back to when he had last gone on a date. Had it been Bruce? No, Bruce had been back in April sometime. They had discovered about an hour into the date that they were definitely friends and not in any way suited to be boyfriends; he liked Bruce though and still saw him every once in a while for a few beers. No, his last date must have been Phil which had started really well; they'd hit it off immediately and there had been a very obvious attraction that had resulted in Bucky going back to Phil's place which he _never_ did on the first date but he had been lonely and horny and running on about six hours worth of sleep over four days and he just wanted to feel something other than utter exhaustion. Which is probably why, halfway through some pretty good sex, he had fallen asleep. Phil hadn't been all that pleased, especially since Bucky had slept for almost nine hours and couldn't be woken up. He hadn't seen Phil since.

Bucky sighed and stretched. Yeah, this wasn't any kind of life to be meeting and attempting to sustain a decent relationship with anyone. He decided to walk out to the 24-hour supermarket and see if Clint was working, maybe pick up a few beers for himself.

And maybe see if a certain blond-haired guy was there again. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about the guy a lot since seeing him that night in the produce section.

Clint was at the cash register when he walked through the automatic doors, nose in a heavy textbook as always. He smiled when he glanced up and saw Bucky.

"Hey man, how's it going?"

Bucky wandered over and leant on the counter. "Not too bad. Managed to sleep this week but I think I may have fucked it all up again; only just finished working. How about you?"

Clint cracked his knuckles. "Tired. Running on about three hours of sleep myself but I need the money and I need to study so it is what it is. Remind me to _not_ want to be a veterinarian in my next life."

Bucky nodded. "At least you'll be able to get a decent job when you graduate though, right?"

Clint grimaced and fiddled with his hearing aid. "I hope so. Some drunk guy came in the other night and took a dump in the middle of the floor and then just walked out before I even had time to realise what he was doing. I'd much rather be dealing with animal shit than human shit; my _dog_ has better smelling shit." He shook his head as Bucky laughed and patted his shoulder in sympathy.

"Oh dude, I have _nothing_ but respect for people who work in the service industry. You deserve a medal and about thirty beers."

Clint chuckled. "Yeah, you think you could tell my bosses that? I may take you up on the beers when I graduate though."

Bucky smiled. "That would actually be pretty cool. It's a deal." They shook hands and laughed. "Oh hey, I've been meaning to ask you," he lowered his voice a notch, "does a big blond guy come in here often? At this time of night, I mean."

"Like tall, kind of guy you might see on one of those sexy calendars? Mr September or something?"

Bucky chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."

Clint nodded over towards the newspapers. "Sure. He's here now."

Bucky turned to look but couldn't see him. "Does he come in here a lot?"

"Seen him a few times. He always looks like he's not really _with us_ , if you know what I mean. Kind of pegged him for a weirdo."

"You pegged _me_ for a weirdo too though, right?" Bucky said with a grin.

Clint chuckled. "Okay, yeah; I admit that I did. But on this shift you don't exactly see a lot of society's most well-adjusted individuals. Why are you so interested, anyway?" He raised an eyebrow.

Bucky shrugged and picked up a basket. "No reason. Saw him a few nights ago and just wondered if he was a regular, is all."

Clint suddenly gave him a huge knowing smile. "Uh-huh. Now that you mention it, he doesn't seem _all_ that weird. In fact, he comes across as kind of _single_ , maybe."

Bucky snorted and headed off to get some beers, deliberately visiting every single aisle before he reached the newspapers. Sure enough there he was, in a blue jacket, white tee and sweat pants, flipping through a magazine but not really reading it. Bucky pretended to look at the crossword and Sudoku books but continued to check the guy out. He looked clean-cut and wholesome - the all-star High School-handsome type - apart from his slightly mussed-up hair. He didn't seem to notice Bucky at all so he allowed himself to stare for a while longer. God, he had a great butt. Not just a great butt, a great _everything_.

After a few more minutes, Bucky walked by him - the guy still giving no indication that he noticed anything around him - and headed back to the cash register.

"Bucky, you know I can see _everything_ on the security monitors, right? You're not exactly subtle." Clint was shaking his head with a smirk.

Bucky rolled his eyes and lowered his voice again. "Oh, give me a break. I've haven't been on a date with anyone that hasn't been my own hand and a bottle of lube for _four months_. I think I'm allowed to stare."

Clint dissolved into laughter as he rang up Bucky's items. "Oh come on, TMI!"

Bucky laughed with him and handed over his cash. "I know, it's pathetic."

Clint gave him his change. "Well, I can talk; I don't exactly have a social life to speak of either. Not for another three months at least."

"Let me know when you're done and we'll grab that beer. Maybe a burger too. My treat."

Clint smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Bucky gave him a wave as he left and tried not to glance back and get one last look at the blond guy.

***

The third time Bucky saw him, a week and a half later, he finally realised _why_ the blond guy looked so out of it every time he saw him.

Bucky was _not_ doing well. His sleep patterns were totally fucked and it had been a week since he even felt like he'd slept, couldn't even _remember_ if he'd slept; working through each day in a muddy haze, starting things and forgetting to finish them, losing time, feeling angry and irritated and stressed out by _everything_. Worst of all, his work had finally started to suffer which was disappointing and scary; no matter how little sleep he'd gotten before, his work had _never_ taken the brunt.

"James, you need a break. You can't try and work when your insomnia is as bad as it is. The last two manuscripts you sent in may as well have had the notes written in Elvish; it was all gibberish." Natasha didn't sound angry though, she just sounded concerned.

Bucky sighed into the phone, frustrated with himself that this had finally effected his work. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I thought I could work like I normally do but this time my insomnia is just..." He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the three-day-old stubble on his jaw. "I feel like I'm going crazy."

"I'm officially telling you to take a week off. You're ahead with your work, _more_ than ahead. Go to the doctors, get some help; do whatever you need to try and _sleep_."

Bucky wished it was as easy as that but he appreciated Natasha caring as much as she did. "I will," he said. "Maybe my brain just needs zero stimulation. Are you sure about me missing a week though? I can get so much done in a week - "

"If you send me _anything_ in the next week, you're fired. I mean it." She hung up.

Bucky rubbed his eyes and slumped back into the couch cushions. This was _hell_. He just wanted his body and brain to shut down. Everything hurt. He wanted to cry but he didn't, just stared in a daze at the ceiling. After a while he closed his eyes and tried out some of the CBT exercises that had sometimes helped in the past. He should really try and get to the doctors but what could they give him that he hasn't already tried? He could take his pick from the bottles upon bottles of pills in his bathroom cabinet. This was just a _bad_ patch. It had to be. He didn't want to think that he wouldn't ever get to sleep again. He glanced at his phone; it was 5:25pm. He grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself. _Please sleep please sleep please sleep_...

***

Bucky dozed fitfully but at least it was something. He blinked awake and the room was dark; moonlight was shining through the window, picking out the edges of furniture and objects. He felt like shit. He groped for his phone and checked the time - 1:13am. He rolled over and tried to doze some more but his brain had decided that he'd slept enough. Bucky sighed and sat up, the blanket still over him and turned on the TV. He found some movie channel showing Die Hard, already about thirty minutes in and started to watch it, even though he'd seen it more times than he could count.

The movie finished at close to 3am and Bucky considered heading over to the 24-hour supermarket. He kind of hoped that Clint would be working again but he knew that wasn't the actual reason he wanted to go. He was tired and lonely enough to think that he might actually go up to the cute blond guy and talk to him if he was there. He didn't want to presume that anything might come of it - hell, the guy might not appreciate some random long-haired loser who looked like he'd just crawled out of a cave trying to make small talk with him at three in the morning - but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment before his sleep-addled brain could clear and start to talk him out of it.

***

Bucky glanced at the cash register as he walked through the automatic doors - Clint wasn't in tonight. He was kind of thankful - he wouldn't have considered going through with this if he knew that Clint would be watching him on the security monitors. He walked down the aisles, trying to make it look like he didn't have any real purpose, his heart thumping in his chest. He was starting to wake up a bit more and was reconsidering this whole thing but then he turned the corner and there he was in the cereal aisle staring at the boxes with that same dazed but adorable look on his face.

Bucky stood and watched the blond guy for a moment; he was looking back and forth between the Bran Flakes and Apple Jacks like it was a life-or-death decision. He finally reached up to take down a box of Apple Jacks but the sleeve of his jacket caught the box next to it and it fell, a few others tumbling down after it. The blond guy cursed softly to himself.

 _Go go go_! Bucky moved forward and bent down to help him pick up a couple of the boxes and stack them back on the shelf. The blond guy looked up at him in surprise.

"Oh, thanks. They just...came down." His eyes flicked down to Bucky's jacket; maybe he thought that he worked here and was scanning for a nametag.

Bucky didn't know how he couldn't have seen it before because looking at the guy now was like looking in a mirror; he instantly recognised the strain and slight delirium of insomnia on the blond guy's face, the same dark smudges under his eyes, the same stilted movements.

"You too, huh?" Bucky said and put one of the cereal boxes back up on the shelf, thankful that he had something to talk about rather than just the "Hi, you're hot. Wanna go out?" that he'd been considering before.

The blond guy blinked at him, confusion in his blue eyes. God, he was cute. "Me too?"

Bucky smiled. "Can't sleep?"

The guy smiled back, relief dancing across his face. Bucky wondered what he thought he had meant. "Oh, yeah. How...how could you tell?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"You kind of look like how I feel. I've seen you in here a few times before at this time of the morning. I come in when I can't sleep; I get insomnia pretty bad."

"Oh. I don't remember seeing you in here before." The guy's eyes cleared a little and he was obviously concentrating on being as coherent as he could.

Bucky gave a little laugh. "No offence but you kind of look like you wouldn't notice a T-Rex if it came in here and tried to buy some milk."

The blond guy laughed then and it was sincere and open, if a little weary. "Well, you're not wrong there." He held out a big hand. "Steve Rogers."

Bucky shook, surprised by how gentle Steve's grasp was. "Bucky Barnes."

Steve let go and clutched his box of Apple Jacks to his chest which Bucky found insanely endearing for some reason. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you in here another night when we're both tired and confused." He smiled and started to walk away.

"Hey," Bucky blurted out before he could think any better of it. Steve turned and looked back at him.

"Do you maybe want to go and grab a coffee?"

Steve looked slightly taken aback. "Coffee? Now?"

Bucky folded his arms. "Decaf, obviously. I don't usually make it a habit to ask random strangers out for coffee at 3:30am but I'm kind of tired enough to think that it's not the worst idea I've ever had."

Steve broke into another sincere smile which lit up his whole face and Bucky grinned back. Oh man, it was a _great_ smile. Steve considered him for a moment, no doubt trying to gauge whether Bucky was genuine or a nut-job and came to a decision. "Alright. I don't usually make it a habit to accept offers of coffee from random strangers at 3:30am but I'm kind of tired enough to think that it's not the worst idea I've ever heard."

Bucky laughed. "Awesome."

Steve held up his box of cereal. "Let me just pay for this. There's an all-night diner just down the street if that's okay with you?"

"Sounds good."

Steve paid for his cereal and they both left the store and headed to the diner, both still in a daze of sleeplessness and Bucky wondered if that was why Steve had been so quick to say yes; if it had been a reasonable hour of the day and Steve had slept the way a normal person slept, Bucky was sure he would have turned him down politely and walked away quickly. He wasn't going to question it too much though. They went into the diner, found a booth at the back and ordered decaf coffee and a bagel each. The place was quiet; the only other people in there besides themselves and the staff were two truckers talking quietly to each other at the counter.

"So Bucky," Steve said, picking at his bagel, "how long have you had insomnia?"

Bucky leaned back against the leather of the booth's seat. "Since I was a teenager; I started to get really bad anxiety when I was fifteen - totally fucked up my sleep and other areas of my life and I've had it ever since. Sometimes it's not so bad but other times I feel like smashing my head against a wall just so I'll be unconscious for an hour or so."

Steve chuffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"How about you?" Bucky asked, taking a gulp of coffee.

"I was discharged from the army a few months back. Haven't really been able to sleep properly since." Steve focused on his plate as he spoke, grinding a bagel chunk into crumbs.

"Where were you stationed?" Bucky asked, not wanting to pry too much but not wanting Steve to think he wasn't interested either.

"Afghanistan," Steve answered. "It was..." He waved a hand. "Story for another time, maybe."

Bucky nodded. "Sorry it's been hard for you."

Steve shook his head. "I was luckier than most." He looked up at Bucky. "So what do you do when you're not out having coffee with other insomniacs at 3am?"

They started to talk about themselves and the hours ran on as they got to know each other. Steve was easygoing and funny - listening with interest when Bucky spoke about his job and his life in general. They discovered they had grown up close to each other, a few blocks apart but they had ended up at different high schools, and neither had strayed far from Brooklyn after college. Bucky watched how Steve grew more animated talking about his childhood and enjoyed the way he articulated enthusiastically with his hands when he got excited. He laughed at Bucky's own anecdotes and his eyes were bright with fascination as he listened to the ins and outs of working as a proofreader. It wasn't until they noticed that the diner had grown noisier and that it was actually _light_ outside that they realised what the time was.

"Holy crap, it's 8:15am!" Bucky exclaimed as he looked at his phone.

Steve glanced up. "Have you got anywhere to be or do you think you might want to stay for breakfast?" He gave Bucky a you-know-you-want-to grin.

It wasn't hard to give in to that smile and they ordered scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and talked about books and favorite movies. Bucky couldn't help but think that going up to Steve and talking to him in the supermarket earlier was the best decision he'd ever made.

"Okay, I have to ask," Bucky said, chewing the last of his toast. Steve looked at him expectantly, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "You didn't think it was strange, me just walking up to you and asking you out for coffee in a supermarket in the middle of the night?"

Steve sat back and balled up his napkin. "Last week I found a football in my refrigerator that I have no memory of putting there but was probably tired enough to have done and not thought twice about. On one of my tours, me and two of the guys in my unit got lost for three days in the desert and all swear blind that we saw a U.F.O one night. I got shot in the arm two days after that and there was barely any bleeding, no exit wound and to this day, no sign of the bullet anywhere in my body. So, no. Not the strangest thing I've had happen to me."

Bucky started to laugh. "Well, good. Hey, maybe I could give you my number? You know, just in case you can't sleep and maybe want to get coffee again?"

Steve laughed softly and Bucky was sure that he blushed. "Um, yeah. That would be good."

They exchanged numbers and finally got up and left the diner. Steve said goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction and Bucky walked back to his apartment in a haze. He had planned on doing some work when he got back - Natasha didn't have to find out - but he found that as soon as he slumped down on the couch with one of his manuscripts, he felt an almost giddy sensation that he hadn't felt for a long time: The delicious surge of tiredness and sleep taking him over. He yanked the couch blanket over himself and flopped to the side, asleep almost immediately.

***

Bucky slept for seven hours. _Seven fucking hours_. He hadn't slept for that length of time in one go since his nightmare date with Phil. His hair was a mess and he had crushed the manuscript beneath him as he slept but he didn't care. He felt _great_. Or as great as he could be; he still felt like he could sleep for another twelve hours if his brain would let him. He glanced at his phone - it was nearly 4:30pm. He snorted and drifted into the kitchen to make himself something to eat; there was a box of macaroni cheese that would do. As he stirred it on the stove, he couldn't help but think about Steve. Had he slept at all today? Bucky considered texting him but it was too soon, surely; it would look totally weird. So he made do with daydreaming about what it would feel like to fall asleep next to Steve. Preferably with his arms around him, running his hands through that blond hair. Being naked wouldn't hurt either.

***

As good as the sleep had been earlier, at 2:43am Bucky was wide awake and watching Storage Hunters, making half-assed notes on one of the manuscripts he was working on when his phone bleeped.

 **STEVE:** Are you awake?

Bucky grinned and tried not to get too excited.

 **BUCKY:** Yep. Watching bad TV and pretending that it's because I want to

 **STEVE:** Want to eat pizza and watch bad TV together?

 **BUCKY:** Are you buying? :P

 **STEVE:** Already bought :)

Bucky texted Steve his address and leapt off of the couch and started to hastily tidy up. He was pretty neat generally but when he was on a bad run of no sleep, he wasn't as fastidious as he usually was. Luckily there wasn't too much kipple to take care of. He sniffed under his arms and grimaced, running into his bedroom to change his t-shirt. It wasn't like he was expecting anything to _happen_ with Steve but he at least didn't want to stink. There was a knock at the door and he took a breath.

"I hope pepperoni is okay," Steve said and held up the pizza box when Bucky answered the door. He looked tired.

Bucky smiled and stepped aside. "Perfect. Come on in."

Steve walked in and turned to Bucky, looking slightly worried and a little frazzled. "Um, I don't...I know this must be weird. We only met yesterday but I'm kind of...I don't see people too often and it's nice that there's someone else awake at this time...I just get..." He looked flustered.

 _You just get lonely?_ Bucky wanted to say, but he didn't. He smiled. "It's okay. I think I know what you're trying to say. Take a seat and I'll grab us some plates. You want a beer?"

Steve gave him an appreciative nod of the head, his eyes soft and Bucky felt his stomach flip. "That would be great. Thanks."

Bucky got the plates and beers and sat down beside Steve on the couch. "Have you slept at all? You look exhausted."

Steve put two slices on Bucky's plate and then his own. "No. Tried to this afternoon but couldn't. You?"

"Yeah, weirdly I did. For seven hours which was a fucking miracle. I haven't slept for that long in months. Still feel like I could sleep for a week though." He bit into his pizza. "Wow, 3am pizza is _really_ good."

Steve chuckled and took a swallow of beer. "I'm jealous. I haven't slept for more than thirty minutes at any one time since I got back to New York. Tried medication, meditation - nothing works."

Bucky picked up the TV remote. "Been there, done everything. I wish I could say it gets easier."

Steve sat back and sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. For some reason, Bucky thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. _Christ, I really am tired_ , he thought.

He perked up slightly when he changed the channel, seeing something familiar and nodded towards the TV. "You up for a marathon of The Prisoner?"

"What's The Prisoner?" Steve asked. He didn't eat his pizza crusts.

"Oh man, you've never seen The Prisoner? It's this classic British sci-fi show that's weird as hell and amazing."

Steve laughed. "Okay. I could go for a little weird."

They settled on the couch and talked while they watched and Bucky decided that Steve was the best thing ever. He was gorgeous and self-deprecating - but not in the way that he was fishing for compliments - and he was fun, despite his obvious fatigue. At one point they were laughing hysterically at something, Bucky couldn't even remember what, and Steve turned to him with that same appreciative look in his eyes, tired and delirious but obviously glad to be with someone who knew how he felt.

***

Bucky awoke, blinking and confused. The TV was still on and he was slumped over on the couch, pressed up against something warm and solid. He carefully raised his head and saw that he was leaning against Steve who was fast asleep, head lolling on the back of the couch, mouth partly open and he was snoring, softly and evenly. Bucky could barely hold back a smile; he looked ridiculous. He didn't have the heart to wake him and carefully reached for the remote, turning off the TV, before he settled back against Steve, enjoying how warm he was. _Just for a little while_ , he thought to himself, not expecting to fall back asleep but doing so anyway, Steve's snores and snuffles steady and lulling in his ears.

***

Bucky woke at around 10am, bleary and happy, the taste of pizza and beer making an unpleasant fuzz in his mouth but feeling good, Steve still totally out of it beside him. He crept to the bathroom and then walked quietly through to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, worried that the clatter would wake Steve up but he continued to sleep and Bucky let him; the poor guy obviously needed it. He carefully draped the couch blanket over him and sat at his desk, working through the edits for another manuscript and occasionally glancing up and letting himself stare at the hot guy asleep in his living room. It was nearly 12:30pm when Steve finally stirred. His breathing hitched and he shifted, sitting up slowly from the boneless slump he had been in and he looked around, slightly bewildered. Then he saw Bucky sitting at his desk watching him with amusement.

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry," Steve said, mortified when he realised where he was. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. You should have woken me and kicked me out." He blustered to his feet and winced as his back cracked.

"Hey, it's fine," Bucky said. "To be honest, I didn't want to disturb you. You were completely gone and there was no way in hell that I was going to wake you up if you haven't slept properly for months. I know too well how awful it feels."

Steve sat back down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you. I mean, I didn't even think I _would_ sleep but I feel...oh man, I'm not going to lie - I feel great." He laughed softly. "There must be something in the air here." His eyes flitted shyly up to Bucky.

Bucky snorted. "Well, if there is, it doesn't work all that often. You want a cup of coffee?"

They talked for a little while and without the pall of weariness over him, Steve was practically radiant. Bucky wanted to ask him out on a date but instead just walked Steve to the door when he finally decided to leave and let Bucky work, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Maybe we could do this again sometime?" Steve said. "The supermarket is great and all but this was much more fun."

Bucky grinned. "Anytime."

***

He didn't want to think that there was a direct correlation between Steve and sleep but it happened again a few nights later.

They had been in touch a lot since Steve had conked out at his place; texting each other throughout the day, working around whatever sleep they could get, even calling each other in the early hours and talking. Steve spoke a little more about his time in the army; he didn't go into a lot of detail but Bucky got the impression that he had maybe lost a few people in his unit and it had started to take it's toll on him, mentally as well as physically. He had been shot a few times other than the incident he had mentioned in the diner that night too and Bucky had been unable to think of anything comforting to say.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I...I don't know what to...." He had trailed off uncertainly.

Steve had been apologetic himself. "No, don't feel like you have to. It's just nice to talk to someone about it all."

As attracted to Steve as he was, Bucky found that it was just awesome to have someone else to talk to, who knew how it felt to be so tired that you thought you were falling apart. They laughed about it too; if they could at least treat the whole not-sleeping thing as some kind of joke they wouldn't go crazy. Just hearing Steve's voice at 5am when he was watching a Spanish soap opera and desperately trying not to punch a hole through the wall in frustration was enough to keep Bucky grounded. He had a feeling that Steve maybe felt the same way.

Bucky was happy to get a text at 3:45am one morning from Steve asking if he wanted to hang out again; he had spent the day grouchy and irritated at everything and realised that he _needed_ to see Steve right now, that no matter how shit he was feeling, he would feel better as soon as he could see those sincere blue eyes again. Steve stumbled into his apartment groggy and apologetic fifteen minutes later. He looked terrible and confessed that he had barely slept at all in the few days since they had last seen each other and had been in a very bad mood all day.

"Same," Bucky said and clapped a sympathetic hand on Steve's shoulder. "It fucking sucks."

Steve laughed and blinked dozily. "It really does."

They watched some bat-shit crazy Dario Argento movie about insects, too tired to talk to each other but content enough just to be in each other's company. Bucky barely even noticed when he started to drift off, the sound from the movie swirling into a pleasant hum and the warmth of Steve beside him comforting and familiar.

***

This time when he woke up, he was stretched out beside Steve on the couch, the blanket he kept draped over the back pulled over both of them. His head was resting on Steve's shoulder and he was sleeping and snoring again. Bucky didn't even think to move this time; everything felt so _nice_ and he was comfy and Steve was so fucking _warm_ and he smelled a little funky but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Bucky nestled back into the solid mass beneath him and closed his eyes again.

 _Damn, I could get used to this_ , he thought.

***

Steve was awake by the time Bucky finally stirred, the two of them still settled together, light streaming through the living room window. Bucky grunted and raised his head slightly.

Steve looked down at him, a satisfied little smile on his face. "Good morning."

At any other time, Bucky may have been embarrassed to wake up this close to someone, especially given that nothing was going on in that way between him and Steve but he just felt like this was totally normal, like this happened all the time. He _wanted_ it to happen all the time. He shifted up a little so they were face to face and smiled back.

"Good morning."

"We kind of fell asleep again," Steve said dreamily.

"We did." Bucky wasn't quite able to tear himself away from Steve's gaze and he smiled wider.

Steve tentatively raised his arm and placed a hand softly on Bucky's waist. "I'm a little worried that you might start to think that the only reason I ever want to see you is because we make each other fall asleep."

Bucky laughed. "Pal, there are worse things in life than falling asleep next to you." He gave Steve a frown. "Although you do snore."

"I don't, do I?" Steve asked with surprise, a line of worry between his eyes.

Bucky nodded and before he could think better of it leaned in and kissed him, brushing his lips gently against Steve's and felt excited and ecstatic and _awake_ when Steve kissed him back. Oh man, this was so much better than all of the times he had fantasised about doing this. Steve's hand tightened on his waist and it sent shivers all the way from his tail bone to his ears. Bucky stroked Steve's neck softly as they kissed, sleepy and slow and finally, after a few minutes, managed to pull himself away.

Steve smiled dopily at him. "That was nice." He reached up and tucked Bucky's hair behind one ear.

"How about we take a walk, get some breakfast and then come back here and do that some more?" Bucky said and ran his thumb along Steve's jaw.

"Sounds like a plan," Steve said and leaned up to give Bucky one more kiss before they straightened themselves out, brushing down mussed hair and headed out of the door, smiling at each other.

***

While his insomnia never went away and he knew it never would, being in a relationship with Steve seemed to make the bad days when he was unable to sleep less unbearable. Steve still had bad patches too but that just meant they could curl up on Bucky's couch together and watch movies until one or both of them fell asleep. Bucky didn't think he would ever get tired of watching Steve sleep, the way his unbelievably long eyelashes looked, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Even if Bucky couldn't sleep, he was happy to spend an hour or two just resting his head against Steve's body, listening to his heartbeat.

They actually managed to establish some kind of routine as time went on; Steve had decided to go back to school to train as a councillor, hoping to eventually help out at the VA which he went to several times a week. Bucky tried as best he could to work in a nine-to-five pattern and for the most part, it seemed to work. Natasha had been delighted and relieved when Bucky had settled back into a decent working schedule.

"I'm glad you're doing better, James. What have you been taking?" she had asked during one of their phone conversations.

Bucky couldn't hold back the smirk that had started to form. "Well, he's tall, blond and amazing. I try to take him as often as I can."

Natasha had actually laughed then, the first time he'd ever heard her do so; usually she just gave a snort and Bucky had laughed with her.

One morning he woke up in bed, still a little muzzy from a recent bad run of sleepless nights with Steve pressed against his back, one huge arm wrapped around Bucky's torso. He let out a deep exhale and snuggled back into him, rewarded by Steve's grip tightening on him and warm breath blowing softly against the back of his neck.

"Good morning, handsome." Steve's voice was still thick with sleep and he pressed a series of little kisses between Bucky's shoulder blades.

Bucky gave a contented hum. "Good morning. What time do you have class today?"

"Not until one," he murmured against Bucky's back. "What time are you meeting Clint?"

Bucky rolled over and faced Steve, smiling as Steve nuzzled into his neck. "Not until eleven thirty."

Steve made a pleased noise. "Hmm. That gives us a couple of hours."

"To sleep?" Bucky asked innocently.

Steve raised his head and gave Bucky the sly grin that meant he was thinking in every way _other_ than innocently. "Not quite what I had in mind..."

Bucky grinned. "Did I ever tell you about the time I fell asleep in the middle of having sex?"

Steve laughed and Bucky felt it throughout his whole body. He loved making Steve laugh like that. "Oh my god, no you didn't."

"It was so embarrassing. The poor guy couldn't wake me up. I was in his apartment totally out of it for nine hours."

Steve laughed harder and shifted, throwing a leg over Bucky and leaning in to kiss him, still chuckling. "Is this a warning of what might happen if I start to do things to you now?"

"It's a possibility but I'll try my absolute _best_ to stay awake." He smiled and ran his hands down Steve's back.

Steve grinned wickedly again and started to kiss his way slowly down Bucky's body. "Then I guess I'll have to do _my_ absolute best to keep you awake too."

 

 


End file.
